St The Guy
by egochan
Summary: Don't mind this. Just another IchiIshi. If fanfic teaches anything, it's that the instant these crazy kids get along, they are doomed to fall in love. This fic is exactly that in more words. Ishi uses Ichi to dodge a suitor. Romance ensues. Eventually.
1. kinda like a prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own an iPod. Or Bleach. I'd rather own the iPod.

_Kinda Like a Prologue_

When Ishida Uryuu had confessed to the group that he was a homosexual, everyone was polite and pretended to be surprised by it, including Ishida. Ishida being gay was one of those things a person took for granted regardless of how true it was or wasn't. Mice ate cheese. Cats ate mice. Ishida Uryuu was gay. There was a sort of strange law in the order of the universe embedded there alongside something about polka-dots and stripes and how the Quincy emblem managed to look tacky anywhere Ishida was fond of putting it.

Kurosaki Ichigo had managed to become very pissed off with Ishida upon the young man's coming out. After sorting through his machismo and personal frustrations, Ichigo had settled on that there was no better explanation for his minimal attraction to Orihime or Rukia than that he was a homosexual. Being a male homosexual, however, made him think of potpourri and nice hair, so he decided he was bisexual with a slightly stronger pull towards his own sex. He noticed handsome men faster than cute girls naturally, and figured that explained things well enough. What pissed him off was that Ishida had unwittingly beaten him to the public confession, so that following him would make it seem that Ichigo was deciding to reveal his own sexuality because of Ishida.

There was nothing Ichigo hated more than feeling like a follow-up. Thus, Ichigo was left to fume and kill Ishida a thousand times in his mind's eye when he saw him. It could have been worse, Ichigo knew. He could have been crushing on some guy and unable to display his feeling because of Ishida being stupid. It was tremendously unfair. Ishida didn't need to come out, everyone already knew. That was like looking out the window during a thunderstorm and telling people it was cloudy. The only reason people would not think of a thunderstorm as particularly cloudy was because the lightening, thunder, and rain stole the show. Clouds were a given that no-one needed reminding about. Likewise was Ishida being gay, though he lacked any silver lining whatsoever because he was a freak cloud.

Ichigo coped his best. He'd come out to his sister Karin a week before Ishida's awe-striking revelation. Karin had taken the information in stride, as if she had intuitively expected it all along. This bothered Ichigo, and he wondered if he was really no better than Ishida at masking himself. If Ichigo couldn't control his spiritual pressure, Ishida certainly couldn't restrain his gayness. Karin had told him reassuringly that she'd only suspected Ichigo because she was his little sister and more acute to such things. Ichigo believed her because it was so much better than the alternative.

"So, how was the party? Is Ishida-kun acting any gayer than normal now that he's sexually liberated?" Karin asked over cornflakes the morning after Orihime's coming out party for Ishida. Ichigo frowned and confiscated her box of cereal. "You're still mad. I see. You're being stupid again."

Ichigo had nothing to say to this and poured his cereal onto the counter before realising it would be much better served from a bowl. He grumbled something sourly to himself and began preparing the more orthodox breakfast. Karin sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Have you become seriously retarded or what? I'm not cleaning that up. Are you upset because Ishida is gayer than you or something stupid?"

Ichigo blanched. "Don't say that! What if Dad or Yuzu heard you?"

"They would think I was picking on you, Ichi. You're really paranoid."

"And I don't have a reason to be?" Karin had hit a nerve. "Ishida's fucking with my open nature, dammit. How can I possibly not confess to everyone something that is so persistent? My depth and curse of openness is being challenged." Karin looked as if she disagreed on the point of her brother's openness, but didn't speak. Wisely, she shovelled a large scoop of cornflakes into her mouth and grunted. "I mean, goddamnit. He better find a gay lover in Antarctica and move there."

"Or you going to do what?" Karin asked doubtfully.

"Shove him in a box and send him there to find one."

Karin choked as a few crumbs and milk tried to rush into her windpipe. For the next ten minutes she coughed and sputtered, all the while casting her brother accusatory glances that said "look what your stupidly does to us normal people." Ichigo's frown only deepened as he knocked his spilt cereal from the counter to the floor and strolled off for the vacuum cleaner. He was back in time to witness Karin's recovery.

"_You_," cough, "_idiot_." Ichigo blinked at her unresponsively. "_Don't_," cough, "_give me_," cough, cough, "_that look_," cough and dislocation of a lung, "_you los--_." But Ichigo had opted to switch on the vacuum then and missed the last syllable. The context, however, made it crystalline clear.

"When you are older, Karin, I'm sure you'll understand the most important importance of coming out before your naturally sworn enemy, the gay dorkishidasaurus, does," Ichigo said with a sagely air as he emptied the contents of the vacuum into the kitchen garbage.

"No, I think I'm going to have to revert back to preschool to understand how my idiot brother thinks." She took another bite of cereal to clear her throat. "The maturity thing doesn't seem to have run into you yet. Or, it gave up and killed itself when it saw your face."

Ichigo had to remind himself that Karin was someone he cared deeply for and did not want mauled to pieces. "Are you calling me immature?"

"You have to ask?"

"Shut up, midget."

"When you grow up, Ichi-ni."

"But you're younger than me."

"And it just makes you more pathetic."

Ichigo was about to say something back, or attack with the vacuum cleaner, he wasn't sure which, when the door opened and in roared Kurosaki Isshin with a legendary, long-distance screwdriver kick. It was an amazing thing, the kick, spinning him at speeds between one to two thousand revolutions a second, and his newest refinement to catch his son off guard. Ichigo successfully negated this with the box of cornflakes, and Isshin crumpled in the devastating defeat.

"Ichigo stopped Daddy's Legendary Flying Screwdriver Kick with breakfast cereal. Amazing!"

"Are you not happy until your fatherly love sends your son to the hospital?" Karin asked darkly from the table. Ichigo, with the cereal between his nose and his father's feet, agreed.

"Then Daddy will take care of him," Isshin said gleefully, "and remind him every day that a strike from the left should not be responded to by a block to the right."

"Like Hell I'd make that mistake, old man," Ichigo said angrily. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Isshin's eyes flooded with tears and he grabbed despairingly at the helm of Ichigo's shirt. "Well, I'm so sorry son, but you're never going to be in the top ten of your class. It's my fault. I never pushed you. I just wanted my son to love me and never feel threatened by my expectations, but it appears I did more harm than good. My parenting skills have failed you, Ichigo, but I can still save the sweet little girls." Isshin turned his face to Karin and Yuzu, "Girls! Do not follow your brother's example. Shun him in public. Go to college and forget he is your brother. Pretend Asami Ryuuichi is your brother."

Ichigo groaned and brushed his father off violently with the help of threatening gestures from his spoon. "Are you calling your son a moron?"

"I've only lost all my hopes and dreams for you," Isshin said in what would have been a reassuring tone if it hadn't made him look insane. That wasn't hard for Isshin. Crazy came easy.

"Can I just eat breakfast in peace?" Ichigo asked.

"Certainly," Isshin said, "relax and eat, but first--BEWARE MY MEGA LIGHTENING FIST OF IMPENDING DOOM!"

Mr. Impending Doom was easily defeated by his son's foot in his face seconds before fist impact. Ichigo sighed and grabbed his school bag. "I guess not," he said.

"Hey, Ichi," Karin called. Ichigo, halfway through the door, stopped and turned. "Have a fabulously gay day at school today, will you?"

Ichigo grimaced. "Why you little…" was about as far as he could get from the pure, liquid fury pulsing and constricting his brain.Isshin, who had heard his daughter's inspired goodbye, picked up the mantra, "Have a gay day today, too, son. It's a gay day for a gay time. I say you may, be gay and have fun!"

Ichigo glared at Karin with lethal fury from the corner of his eye and stormed from the house. Just his luck, the idiots had jinxed him. Perfect. And with Ishida's new freedom of self, there was no telling just how gay the days were going to get.

* * *

**Endnote:** Written for Lumi's birthday year(s?) ago, and I am only now putting it up. Yeah. I know.


	2. mr lucky

**Disclaimer:** It's more. Yay.

_Chapter One: Mr. Lucky_

Now, let's take a moment of observation before this first chapter begins.

Ichigo displays amazing fortitude in his conviction of not telling his friends he is gay. Before this chapter, years have passed in suppression and silence until now when he is in his first year of college. If there is anywhere in the world that a person does not want to wander into sexually oppressed and desperate, it is this campus atmosphere. Someone as noticeable and emotional as Kurosaki Ichigo has things especially hard and ought to do the only thing for it, which is dash off madly in the other direction. Ichigo, however, is proud, which is a better way of saying he is immeasurably stupid. He doesn't run from any adversity or rapidly approaching doom. Ichigo takes obvious peril head-on and in stance, which, though amusing to observe, is not always the most tactical way to overcome. Once again, Kurosaki Ichigo is stupid.

This clarified, it shall now be noted that Ichigo is attending a local college, a pre-med sort of amble for the sake of his father and someday inheriting the Kurosaki clinic. He's in freshman year, somewhat more mature than the high school days of throwing tantrums over telling his friends he is gay or not, and actually graduated in the top eleven of his class. As the chapter opens, he is sitting in his fourth and final period, pre-calculus, listening as a fifty-something male professor explains the most amazing functions of _x_ imaginable.

Now, onwards. Our story begins:

Ichigo couldn't have looked more uninvolved with what the professor was saying if he'd died. Pre-calculus was a joke, a mistake. Against reason, Ichigo's entrance exams to Karakura University had fallen dramatically short in mathematics. He'd already taken pre-calculus. Hell, he'd already taken _calculus_. What he hadn't taken was the entrance exam seriously. And thus, this.

You know, this is too stupid, even for you, Ichigo's self murmured tiredly as the professor began drawing again. One of the better things about college was the ease in which one could sleep through the soft thud of a marker instead of chalk boards. Karakura High had waited for Ichigo's class to graduate before installing their own marker boards, which was just fine, because Ichigo could've slept through chalk regardless. Sleeping through class was like some sort of terrible problem that had gotten worse with years. Ichigo had reached a point where he couldn't spend twenty minutes in a class before knocking his head onto the desk and slipping far, far away. His work as a shinigami didn't rob him of sleep successively enough to allow him to safely alter his sleeping schedule. Hollows were sporadic, and so was Ichigo's naptime. It was a real drag. His current stance of liquefaction over the surface of his desk was an example of how much of a drag it could be. 

And basically, pre-calculus sucked even when he was conscious. His classmates didn't like him. He didn't like the class. He could hear them talking about him to their other friends majoring in things like social sciences and literature, the sort who boosted their poor GPA from failing math and science with stuff like handicrafts and miscellaneous arts. _Yeah, that's Kurosaki-kun. He just sleeps and passes all the tests. What a loser. He should be taking a higher class if he's so good instead of taking pre-calculus and making all the rest of us look like morons. _

It all pissed him off. And just as bad, his father still called him every week.

"You know, son, you did not have to move into an apartment with your friends." This was the usual start of the conversation. "There is room at home for you always and forever, and it breaks my heart to think you would not want to stay with us, your loving family who all miss you and think about you every day. There is a hole in all out hearts because you are not here. We cannot understand why a few minutes of extra travel time should compel our dear eldest son to abandon his poor father and little sisters."

And Ichigo would always argue back. Unfortunately, he consistently made the mistake of trying to rationalise with Isshin. "A few minutes? It's an hour commute from our home to the university, old man, and only in zero traffic. What are you talking about abandoning you? My first class is at eight, and in a total opposite building from the class forty minutes after it. An apartment is much more convenient."

Once the preliminaries were ended in a few more minutes of, "we miss you and you never come by anymore" and "I came by _two hours ago_, remember that?" there was finally a change in topic, usually from Isshin. Then, Ichigo would discover why his father had really called. "I'm going to send you some scans of your childhood photos where you look happy."

"Why?" Ichigo asked suspiciously.

"You've abandoned us here and we must survive however we can. It's decided that we must have a poster of our successful student son who is too successful to stay with his family, so that when people visit they can say hello."

Ichigo gaped into the phone. What was with that man and enormous laminated memorials? Ichigo hadn't even _died_. Or, not permanently. "Like…mom's…stupid…poster…?"

"No," Isshin said, though Ichigo expected it wasn't reassuring. Nothing could be trusted which went on in that man's head. "This is going in the clinic where everyone can see it. It's hard choice, though. Karin, Yuzu, and I have narrowed it down. I'm sending five poopey diaper playtimes, two where your mother dressed you as a girl in a kimono, and the photo from your freshman high school yearbook."

"WHAT? I thought you treated people in a clinic, not traumatised them."

"Cute little baby Ichigo playing with his poopey diaper is not traumatising. It's adorable."

Ichigo begged to differ. "You're not showing anyone that photograph, old man. You're not showing anyone any of those photographs. I will kill you."

"But you looked so happy."

"I. Will. _Kill_. You."

And the call progressed steadily onwards in this tone of threats and obliviousness until Ichigo became too far frustrated and hung up. A day later, the mail would arrive and he would be starting at eight embarrassing photographs wondering who he'd killed in his past life to have them reincarnated as Kurosaki Isshin. He'd have to hide the photos from his dorm mates (who were coincidentally enough his high school friends, Chad, Keigo, and Mizuiro), which would ultimately fail for no reason in particular other than Ichigo was really terrible with hiding things. Then, Keigo would have a field day and Ichigo would observe the world as it blew up around his ears.

This time, however, Ichigo had a better solution. "Chad, hide these."

It was a horrible thing to do, implementing Chad in Ichigo's own desperate attempt to conceal that he had once been a human child and that his father was psychotic. Why couldn't Isshin be funny crazy? Dangerous crazy? Why was he instead oblivious and eccentric crazy? There was no answer. All Ichigo had left was an ageless bond of friendship with the trustworthy Sado Yasutora, a bond that he depended on in the most dire of situations.

"Hm?" Chad asked. Looking down at the photos he'd been handed, his eyes widened. "Ichigo…these are bad."

"What can I say? I'm not very cute in a kimono."

Ichigo was right. It had taken his mother two photographed attempts to realise this, however. It took five photographs to realise maybe the baby needed something more hygienic to play with than his own dung.

"Should I burn them?" Chad asked carefully. Ichigo shook his head.

"If I agree to that, my father would know," he said. Chad's face was blank. "He would just know, okay? Don't argue with me. I know this man." Chad's expression didn't change. "Fine! If it's that hard, I'll take them back. Just thought I'd ask a friend. Didn't think I was asking a dog to have kittens…."

Chad blocked Ichigo from snatching the photos back. "I will take care of it," he assured him. There was such resolution there that Ichigo couldn't doubt him. It suddenly dawned on him as it always did in such moments: Sado Yasutora was a good person and a great friend. And anyone who didn't think so needed a swift kick in the face.

Peace would reign in the two apartments then until Keigo and Mizuiro returned with Keigo fantasising about the attractive women he saw in his last class, a class which had an excellent view to the volleyball gym's warm-ups. Keigo, a passionate advocate of women's volleyball and all-women's gym classes, made a point to sit nearest the window and thus nurture his appreciation. Those who did not understand his reasons and somewhat honest dedication seemed to consistently mislabel him a sad pervert. A sad pervert was not just any pervert, either, but one that when he was caught staring, was not chased away or reprimanded because he was simply too pathetic and too overbearingly harmless to reward with that sort of an effort.

"Oh, man, have you ever met Miyako Outo?" Keigo asked, returning triumphantly from another successful day of volleyball infatuation. Ichigo didn't remember what Keigo's last class of the day was anymore, and he suspect Keigo had done the same.

"I doubt you have," Ichigo said unenthusiastically while searching the cabinets for a ramen flavour a bit more promising than original. Original required an actually strategy of what to put in it, as opposed to chicken and vegetable which was fine on it own, even if Ichigo was by now convinced that those little slices of green and orange were not vegetables by any definition in any culture of the world.

"Miyako Outo?" Mizuiro asked in recognition. Mizuiro joining Keigo's fan-boyish babble was never promising. "I had a thing with her a while back. The volleyball coach? Not as spunky and fun as you'd think."

Keigo was crestfallen. "You enjoy killing my dreams, right? Is that why you keep doing it, you bastard?"

"I'm just letting you know these things before you get involved."

"Oh, don't say anymore! You're just breaking my heart and dashing my fantasies to pieces on the cold stone that lines the shore of your wicked soul," Keigo cried in anguish. Ichigo supposed it had been thing phrase about getting involved that had set him off. Keigo had yet to accomplish getting involved with anyone before he died young of the shame. "You've killed enough dreams already, Mr. Killer-of-Dreams."

Only Chad was cool enough to take this idiocy head-on without considering the many combative usages of unwrapped plastic forks and knives. He didn't, which was why he liked to believe that he was growing more and more accustomed to living with the adolescent double act across the hall that was Keigo Asano and Muzuiro Kojima, but he couldn't so openly lie himself like that. The guys were great and everything that could be expected from old high school buddies, but the pros and cons of that relationship meant that you not only knew them well, but that they knew you well and could keep an inside joke running and inescapable for decades. Thus, Ichigo was paranoid of giving them anything truly terrible to run off gleefully into the world of mockery and amusement with, since Keigo especially would make sure he never lived it down. It was one of the great downfalls of being friends with someone who was so unlucky in life and yet surrounded by others with all the luck in the world; an unlucky friend would cling zealously to anything that brought others closer to his level.

"Will you two take this to your apartment before I give you a hot ramen facial?" Ichigo threatened in the most normal tone of voice. He always sounded irritated about something.

"Well, sorry, grumpy-Ichigo," said Keigo, ready to pour into one of his dramatic spills which had nothing whatsoever to do with anything anyone was ever saying. "All that fancy math class you take does it piss you off everyday. Everyday you complain too much about it not being good enough. It's so depressing for us normal guys," and here Keigo motioned to himself and Mizuiro. "We're not geniuses. And we already know you're smart (though Chad's a lot smarter) because we're not that stupid as you'd think." Keigo smiled optimistically, "So don't take it so badly. You're still frustrated when we show up. It's not good for you; am I right, Chad?" He turned to the giant man at his right. "Am I right?"

"You must like to prove that you're a moron," said Ichigo, picking at his ramen and only half listening. "I'm not frustrated about pre-calculus when you show up. I'm frustrated that you show up."

"It's just a class," said Keigo, still deluding himself that Ichigo couldn't be irritated at him. "I just don't know why you have to take it out on your dear friends."

"Maybe my friends are really annoying and nosy?"

"Don't be mean, Ichigo," Mizuiro intervened, but was overshadowed by the now excited Keigo.

"Well, we _may just be _really annoying and _we may just be _really nosy, Ichigo, but it's because we _care_. Though, fine! Shun the people who care! We're leaving," Keigo grabbed Mizuiro by the shirt collar and began pulling the smaller boy to the door. "We can see when we are not wanted by those too hung up on themselves to notice his friends' concern. I hope you fail the brainiac class _and _learn your ultimate lesson. We'll be waiting across the hall. Two losers who used to care."

Keigo stormed out simultaneously with his preaching. The last words were enunciated with defiance and pseudo-wisdom, and concluded with a harsh slam of the apartment door. Ichigo watched, unmoved, and returned to his ramen preparation.

"What's Keigo majoring in again?" he asked Chad.

"Acting," said Chad, "and a minor in psychology."

"Yeah," Ichigo agreed, watching the ramen bowl rotating merrily in the microwave, "something like that."

* * *

Endnote: If Miyako Outo isn't a name, I don't care. I just made it up right before I published this since I couldn't be arsed to look up a real name. 


	3. frozen ammonia solutions

**Disclaimer:** I give up on this chapter. Wah.

_Chapter Two: __Frozen Ammonia Solutions_

Karakura General Hospital was likely the most inhospitable place on Earth. It caused the average visitor to speculate how such an impression was formed and the average patient to quake in his or her bed when facing a two month term of rehab. Sure, the place was pretty enough and spacious enough, bright enough and giant window'd enough. The nurses smiled when prompted, the doctors were formal and polite, and everything was clean. The hospital's only problem was the darkness and cold of it's soul, Dr. Ishida Ryuuken. The building was very much this man's own body, his own place in the world where he presided over unquestionably as if he were utilising the function of a limb. Dr. Ishida had dedicated his life to this hospital decades before, and in acceptance of it's One Lord And Master, it had given him it's shell.

And like the hospital, Dr. Ishida had multiple personalities. To patients he appeared calm enough and giant glasses'd enough. Hell, he was even pretty enough if you were looking for a distinguished older man. But, deep below, one sensed that something vital had gone frigid, perhaps something vital enough to be an organ that had stopped beating it's SOS decades before. The man was the dark underside of the glacier and the frozen desert above; his blue eyes glittered inwardly from the artic sun that lit each of his bright ideas. Also, he looked majestic in photographs and had a soft, slushy part in his soul reserved for seals and penguins alike. These animals often seemed at home in his presence on the doctor's occasional visits to the local zoo. Dr. Ishida had likewise almost become a marine veterinarian. Being a human doctor, however, made him appear somewhat less of the loser he'd always deeply been.

But, no-one ever saw Dr. Ishida's playful seal side. If they had, it would have scared them so much he would have been dead before twenty. Fond of life, he had as a result become distant and dismissive. Though nice enough and professional (more than enough) to his few patients, he was a tyrant to those working beneath him. Kurosaki Ichigo knew. Ichigo worked part-time on the Karakura Hospital maintenance staff, courtesy of Kurosaki Isshin's "outstanding connections" and overall ability at making certain his son was never happy. His excuse was that Ichigo would grow accustomed to hospital life and would know the place inside and out and would never get lost, which was so horribly embarrassing to happen on someone's first day of practising medicine. Ichigo couldn't make him understand that it was also embarrassing to trudge around elite doctors and paranoid med students in a janitor's uniform. Someone as noticeable as Ichigo did not posses the knack of disappearing into the background and was therefore called up right away for every mess. So far he had mopped more spills than all his co-workers combined simply because the person who'd made the mess would tell another to find "that orange-haired guy" to clean it up. It was as if Ichigo had become the hospital's only custodian.

Even worse were the people crying on Ichigo, all students, mostly, who caught sight of him at the corner of the cafeteria minding his own business picking croutons and hair out if his broom's bristles. They would tell him that janitors had it easy for not accomplishing enough to be doctors and nurses. Since in the hospital hierarchy Ichigo was below uninsured patients and their dogs, those who complained about life to him believed he was incapable of intelligent thought, a sort of robot, and unable to relate to anything they may say even if it were derogatory to his position. The tête-à-tête to what was basically expected to be no more responsive than a wall usually ended violently with Ichigo running at the speaker and brandishing his broom in the stance of a samurai warrior.

There were surprisingly few complaints about Ichigo's behaviour after an outburst due to the recognition that registered upon mention of Kurosaki Isshin. Some apologised to Ichigo. More, feeling like idiots about their encounters, told others to find him whenever there was a particularly nasty mess. Who was Kurosaki Ichigo to go around sweeping in the cafeteria like a typical janitor without warning everyone, anyway? It was all Ichigo's fault. What he needed was a neon sign to give others a heads up.

Ichigo never earned any stand-out terrible treatment from Dr. Ishida, which wasn't to say he liked the guy because if it. The hospital lived in fear if the man, but Ichigo was not a fearing type, so instead he despised. Dr. Ishida was good at walking in on the most sickening subjects to be mopped or swept away, but he couldn't be blamed for that. He was also good at walking into Ichigo first thing when looking for someone to clean up. Ichigo began to wonder if the man could unwittingly sense spiritual power and was therefore drawn to him right away. This, of course, was something Dr. Ishida again couldn't be blamed for, but still pissed Ichigo off.

Ichigo was happy at least to get paid, though too much of it went into his side of the rent. His roommate, Chad, worked everywhere for moving companies and whatever appreciated a man who could do some very heavy lifting. The guy could've been a boxer or a wrestler or a superhero with his physique. It was beautiful, though Ichigo was bisexual enough to not be attracted to that in a guy. Call him sexist, call him picky, but Ichigo wanted to win all the arm wrestling matches.

Which was why no other janitor in the hospital could scrub quite as effectively as Ichigo. Which meant he did a hell of a lot of scrubbing. Which sucked.

Outside of spontaneous combat and resurrecting from almost-death, Kurosaki Ichigo had no luck. It was in many ways pathetic. Seriously. He'd struggled for life through high school just so he could live this college life?

Just, _Damn_.

He was sweeping croutons again, it was Wednesday, and he was wondering why the hospital served croutons when it was so obvious that no-one was eating them. The amount of hair on the floor was also astounding, and it was scary to imagine how many bald people had to be walking around the hospital in a great bald army. Sure, there were cancer patients losing hair, but they weren't all active enough to ruminate in the cafeteria over their inevitable shed. Most of the hair, on closer inspection, was thinning old man hair. Every doctor in the hospital had thinning old man hair, even the women. Only Dr. Ishida Ryuuken was exempt because he was the hospital's stand-in god force.

"I heard you did badly on your exams, Kurosaki. Even I hadn't assumed it was this bad, and I don't like you."

Ichigo turned to face the young man who was one of several banes of his existence, Ishida Uryuu. Ishida in turn was smirking at him, but not smirking. There was the general impression that he would be smirking if he cared to reward Ichigo with that sort of appreciation. Actually, his face was expressionless.

"What the hell do you want?" Which wasn't the nicest way to greet a person, almost a friend, who one hadn't seen since high school. But considering Ishida hadn't greeted him very nicely either, Ichigo was merely levelling with him on the immaturity.

"I'm just commenting on the scenery around here. It's awful."

"Yeah, it got pretty bad when your ugly mug walked in. I've got a mop. Want me to scrub that off? Looks painful."

"You're still immature."

"And you're still a pain in the ass."

"Oh, for the love of God, you two," a woman at a nearby table cried. "Are you guys related?" The question was sincere, and she was looking between the both of them trying to find physical similarities.

"Of course not," Ishida said. "My gene pool's not that shallow."

Ishida just didn't stop, and it pissed Ichigo off more. If Ishida had half the attitude and a fourth of the pride, he could have scraped by as simply a strange guy with special problems. But, as things were, Ishida was an ass. He was not easy to like or get along with, especially if he did not want to be liked or gotten along with. Ichigo had tried. By what he saw as no fault of his own, however, his extensions of somewhat friendship had blown up in his face. It was really Ishida who was the one with the problem. Ichigo didn't originally hate the guy, but had responded to the other's hate. Thus, in Ichigo's mind, there was nothing wrong with him but with Ishida.

"How long do you plan on being cool and hanging out in the cafeteria, you loser?" Ichigo asked, beginning to get back into his sweeping stride and not having to deal with Uryuu any longer if he just focussed more attention on work. What the hell was Uryuu planning to accomplish by speaking with him?

"I don't appreciate that attitude from a janitor."

"Then you shouldn't have started talking to one."

Uryuu only looked at him darkly, as if this were enough to settle their argument in his favour. Maybe he thought he was the bigger man for walking away? Sure, fine, whatever. If the guy couldn't properly finish a fight he'd brought himself into, then that was his problem. Ichigo wasn't about to go running around the room whooping about it. There was an entire three-quarters of floor to sweep, and to slap in the face of popular opinion, Ichigo preferred to get a job as harrowing as that done without much interference. He was moody; it didn't mean he allowed himself to slack.

Unfortunately, for all of Ichigo's ability to focus and not let Uryuu annoy him, things only progressed to worse.

"Where the hell were you at before I was stuck with the horror of your ugly face every afternoon?" Ichigo couldn't resisted asking after nearly an entire week of small bickering with Uryuu. He'd walked in today in time to see Uryuu already settled down to a sandwich and a soda. "There's a deli down the street and, hell, it's cheaper than the cafeteria."

"I like these sandwiches," Uryuu said between bites and slow chewing. Ichigo shook his head and began to sweep.

"Here's a secret, then," he said as he herded another flock of useless croutons into his dustpan. "The guy who makes the cafeteria sandwiches is the son of the guy who owns the deli. They are exactly the same sandwiches."

"I don't feel like walking to a dirty little deli down the street."

Ichigo stopped what he was doing and assumed an authoritative stance with his broom prompted beside him. He shook his finger. "The cafeteria isn't clean when you show up, idiot. That's why I have to be here."

"And you're such a dedicated worker." Uryuu said, amused, though it was hard to tell. "I think this sort of job suits you much better than shinigami work. Does Soul Society need a custodial staff? You'd be phenomenal. They'd probably make you a division captain in no time."

"Shut the hell up," Ichigo said, grabbing his broom with both hands entirely on instinct in preparation to hit something with it. He was starting to wonder if Uryuu wanted to lose an eye.

Ichigo remembered what he had been taught by people and children's books much wiser than himself. There was something important in living a good life and being the person who did not waste time on frivolous argument, but who instead was kind and forgiving. Ichigo just said to forget that, though, since he was a very passionate person. Anger just so happened to be a more destructive passion to those nearby than most. Ichigo had also been taught about a person needing to maintain a certain level of composure at all times, but a few minutes with Ishida Uryuu could destroy all attempts to restrain himself. Seriously, the guy had a death wish. He seriously wanted Ichigo to kill him; that was all Ichigo could make of it. If the children books authors had met Ishida Uryuu, they would have added exceptions to their morals, or written sequels.

"If you need to know, I was in the United States for a while. It was much better than here simply out of a lack of shinigami," said Uryuu answering Ichigo's first question, and thus throwing Ichigo entirely off kilter.

Ichigo paused from wiping down a nearby table. He looked up at Uryuu, curious but wary. "They don't have shinigami in America?"

Uryuu sneered. "You don't know?" he asked. He wiped his hands and mouth from his sandwich in preparation of the infamous Long Explanation he was so masterful at. Ichigo groaned but waited. "It's not really a problem of no shinigami in America, but a problem of fewer hollows. It's because the souls of people in America are not as delicious to hollows as the souls of people in places like Karakura. There are not many people of high spiritual power in the United States in the same way there is high spiritual power in Japan. It s not a good environment for our Japanese demons and soul collectors."

"I thought hollows and shinigami were all over the world."

"They are, but not all the same amount in each place. It makes the Quincy more powerful since we protect people from hollows when the people have fewer shinigami around them. You never notice us covering your slack and just take it for granted. Shinigami don't care about saving people. They only want to kill the strongest hollows to boast."

"That isn't true. Shinigami are all about saving lives."

Uryuu laughed at Ichigo. "Shinigami are soul reaping elitists. You should know that, Kurosaki. They did not take warmly to you at first because you were not a part of their Society. You still aren't--not in a way that they respect you. You'll never been seen as equal, even by the weakest shinigami out there who you could possibly defeat."

"I am not an enemy of the shinigami anymore, Ishida. We are all on good terms. You're complaining because you don't trust anyone, and you're a prick."

"Getting along with shinigami does not mean that they accept you. When we were in Soul Society, I got along well enough with the shinigami, but that didn't mean I no longer despised them. There was simply no logic in antagonizing those who were taking care of us. The way people treat you does not reflect what they think about you. It just reflects their better judgment and self-control."

"And what does that say about you eating your lunch in here everyday when I have to sweep?" Ichigo asked sharply. Uryuu ignored him and continued as if Ichigo had said nothing.

"Also, I noticed that they have assigned a new shinigami to Karakura. Why would Karakura need a shinigami of you are here? That is proof; you may carry the sword and wear the outfit, but you will never be seen as a full shinigami by fellow shinigami. They will always operate on their own without you. You're just an extra fighter when they need one, though they don't trust you at all. If you accept that, you'll be much better off."

This was too much. "You think I am idiot?" Ichigo asked, finally irritated to the point of needing to show Uryuu why everything Uryuu was saying was stupid. He'd let the guy ramble on for too long. Something about Uryuu allowed him to ramble for a very long time about stupid things without being interrupted. Needless to say, it was a tremendously useless ability. "I do know that, and I always have. I know Soul Society is one of the worst bureaucracies off the face of the earth. I operate around that. I don't even want to join the special shinigami club you're telling me I'm not allowed into. That would only hold me back. And also, it's a good thing there is a spare shinigami around here when I have college and sweeping this damn cafeteria to do all day, especially when someone really annoying keeps distracting me. Now, will you please shut the hell up and let me finish the actual work I'm doing while you stuff your ugly face with that overpriced sandwich you love? Thanks."

Ichigo had been getting behind on his custodial duties thanks to Uryuu. Before he entered the cafeteria everyday he would prep himself, swearing to not say a word to Uryuu if Uryuu said anything. He'd watch it all blow up in his face the second he opened the door. For a quiet sort of guy, Uryuu always had something to say to Ichigo. Then, there were the instances where Ichigo couldn't stop himself from starting something he knew would not turn out well. At least everything Ichigo said was intended to drive Uryuu out. There was no way Uryuu was going to force things the other way around.

Ichigo began to cling a little more to the fact that he was getting paid to enter the cafeteria and suffer everyday while Uryuu was paying extra for a sandwich. It was something small to make him happy, so, sometimes it didn't seem like enough. Ichigo couldn't believe how picky he was when it came to accepting small victories. Putting up with himself was sometimes harder than putting up with Uryuu. Uryuu would eventually shut up, unlike Ichigo's annoying gut feelings and urges to put himself in unpleasant situations.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, do you know why you're here?" the head janitor, a guy named Ito, asked. He didn't give Ichigo the option of answering. "You've fallen a half hour behind on your schedule. The nurses needed the bedpans on floor five cleaned before Wataya-san came out of surgery. They were waiting over an hour."

"Yes, sir," Ichigo said since he wasn't allowed to say much else in such circumstances.

"Now, you've been assigned the post-lunch cafeteria cleaning. This seems to be where you are losing your time. Is the cafeteria too much work for you, I wonder? Do you need help for the one-man job of sweeping and wiping tables? We aren't asking you to mop everyday, Kurosaki. I can't see why you're having such a problem."

"There is no problem, sir."

"Don't lie to me, Kurosaki," said Ito sharply. Ichigo frowned. "If you keep messing up, you'll be spending a lot more time in that cafeteria after hours sweeping, wiping, _and _mopping. You'll be cleaning trays and helping out the cafeteria servers."

"Yes," Ichigo said to show he understood. Ito was someone he'd learned it was useless to argue back at. No-one knew the cause of Ichigo's tardiness but Ichigo, since it was childish. Ito growing frustrated was understandable as Ichigo was too proud to tell him the truth. But, Ichigo was still mad at being put to blame for something that wasn't entirely his fault.

"You're a student, Kurosaki," Ito continued, this time not so furiously. Now he was going to try and appeal to Ichigo's reason. "We give you jobs you can do around your classes and still have time for study. We know your father wants you to do well in class and at work. But, if you can't get your work done in the afternoon, we'll find you something in your next opening late in the evening. Do you understand? You don't know how easy you've got it right now."

Ichigo understood. He was going to kill Uryuu. He understood that very well.

"Shut the hell up," Ichigo said when he entered the cafeteria. Uryuu hadn't even looked at him yet.

"I wasn't saying anything," said Uryuu in self-defence.

"Then don't." Ichigo threw down his dust pan and began to furiously sweep, working in a very good rhythm for the first time in days. A quarter of the way finished seven minutes later, and he couldn't believe things were going so well. It appeared that Uryuu, for once in his life, didn't feel like inciting an argument of epic proportions between the two of them. At this rate, Ichigo would be happily studying over dinner and in bed by eleven without a worry in the world.

Ichigo stood in awe of himself when he finished his sweeping and wiping all with ten minutes to spare. This was a record for him, a personal best. He went to empty his trash and dust into the garbage, emanating relief in his accomplishment. Only one thing could make the moment break, but it looked like Uryuu had already left. Poor Uryuu for being a boring loser with nothing to entertain himself but Ichigo's downfall. Take that, dorkishidasaurus.

"It's good you finished early," a voice that was regrettably Uryuu's said from behind Ichigo. Uryuu appeared at Ichigo's left with his lunch leftovers and plastic eating apparatus to throw away. "A patient just walked in a threw up. Now you'll have time to clean that up while you're here."

Ichigo blanched and spun around, searching for this patient and seeing him just a few feet from the door and looking around himself meekly. He scurried over with a nurse to the food line. Wordlessly, the nurse made eye contact with Ichigo and mouthed "please" while pointing to the mess. Ichigo looked at his watch. He had less than ten minutes for a fifteen minute job, plus the time running around for a mop and "caution: wet floor" signs. He should've brought the entire janitor cart, but stupid him had thought he'd be sweeping and wiping.

"Oh f---," Ichigo said and went to get that damn mop. At the end of the work day, things were not looking good.

"Fell free to take a siesta tomorrow, kid," Ito said a grim smile. "You're new shift's at nine. Don't be late, and don't forget your hair net."

* * *

**Endnote:** I could say this chapter better than nothing, but then I would be lying to you and myself. 


	4. family isn't funny

**Disclaimer:** I own not.

_Chapter Three: Family Isn't Funny_

"I just love college. I love the people and the classes, the nice professors and the evil professors, the vending machines and the food court. I love this walkway, and those fancy arranged flower bushes. I love the haughty stares from the liberal arts students, and the brainy idiosyncrasies from the engineering kids. There're--no--_we're_ all just a great bunch of losers with plans, or terrified without them. I love it all."

Ichigo's face was blank as he pointed it out, "But you're not in college, Yuzu."

Ichigo was walking his sisters past Karakura University on their way back from grocery shopping. Isshin had unloaded the girls on Ichigo with a vague minute warning that morning on the phone before rushing off to a weekend medical conference. It was still Friday, and the girls had been forced to wait outside his third period class alone and unmonitored. Ichigo had been justifiably furious when he'd stumbled outside from his three hour nap to see his two little sisters sitting against the wall very much on their own in the alien college environment. Ichigo right away opted to skip his fourth class in favor of keeping an eye on them. He'd need to catch up on his groceries anyway.

"Yes, but I can still love college. I don't have to be in college to know I love it. I simply do."

It had already been established that Yuzu was a little insane. She had been unfortunate to take the bullet for Karin by being the one to inherit Isshin's crazy gene.

"Oh look, students!" Yuzu cheered and pointed. "Look at how they are dressed. They must be athletes. Let's go asked them about their sport."

"How about we don't, Yuzu. They look busy," Karin said, taking control of their sister for Ichigo.

"Okay, you guys. I'm going to go and get my homework off of Professor Nakamura's bulletin board. His class starts in an hour, and I'm not going for the sake of you two."

"Why don't you go online and never show your face ever again. Be an elusive learner, Ichi-ni. That's exciting, isn't it?" Yuzu asked, further fascinated with the university the deeper she was led inside.

"We don't have an internet connection for the computer at the apartment."

"That's awful. How do you do all of your intense, college-level projects?"

Ichigo didn't remember having every been faced with any particularly intense projects. He just answered the question. "It's what the campus library is for."

"Can we go there next?"

Ichigo shrugged. "There's no reason to."

"Please," Yuzu asked, clasping her hands together and leaning towards him. "Please, can we see the library?"

Ichigo did not like the face of Yuzu pleading with him, so he agreed. "Okay, fine, but it isn't amazing or anything. Don't get your hopes up."

"Awesome!"

Karin sighed. "You know it does no good to give her what she wants like that, Ichi. She'll be asking to sit with you in class next. And didn't you have a job to get to after third hour?"

"Yeah. My shift changed. You're lucky you don't have to hang around the smelly hospital all day."

"And what time do you start now?"

"Nine in the evening."

"_Nice_."

"Shut up."

When they reached the library, Ichigo tried to explain to Yuzu what certain things were without enticing The Wrath of the Librarians. She took all the information eagerly and with glee, which made Ichigo feel a little important inside for being responsible for that. He was telling her about the internet using procedures of the computer lab when he happened to look up and see two familiar, glasses'd eyes watching him. The mouth below them was a sneer.

Then, Ichigo did something he would be immensely proud of thirty years after leaving the library; he turned back to Yuzu and continued explaining about the library to her. He didn't realise at the moment that this was a very mature thing to do instead of running at Uryuu screaming about his new working hours that were all thanks to him.

Still, Ichigo didn't feel like he was doing anything different from usual. There was no special "I am now a little more mature than I was yesterday"-feeling. His thought process was more along the need to be quiet in the library, the fact that Yuzu was listening to him, and that he really had nothing to say to Uryuu so there was no point to start a conversation.

"And then," Ichigo concluded, "if something really horrible you did caused the computer to spontaneously combust or whatever else is way cooler than the computer deserves, the library knows who you are."

"That's too bad," said Yuzu. Ichigo's eyes widened.

"What do you mean by that?"

Karin wandered back before Yuzu could answer. She'd gone to explore the library on her own after finding Ichigo's grand tour to be what she called a grand bore. "It's probably time to leave. I'm about to pass out from the sheer presence of so much reading material. I'm already getting a headache. It's a good thing we didn't buy ice cream, but the librarians are still giving us dark looks for carrying around grocery bags."

"Yeah, sure," Ichigo said, standing to leave. "You ready, Yuzu?"

"Now we get to see your dorm, right? That's so cool."

They left the library then with Yuzu eagerly prophesising the catastrophe that would be Ichigo's room. Ichigo didn't think this was fair, since he kept his room at home clean. What was she basing her predictions on?

"What a dump," Karin said on her first sight of the apartment. Ichigo became defensive.

"What? The place is clean. There's nothing wrong with it."

"There's plenty wrong. I didn't say it was your fault; the place is just a dump no matter what you do to it. I didn't say it was a pigsty. I'm not incriminating you."

"Yet it sounds like you are," Ichigo muttered and went to the kitchen to begin putting food away. "When I go to work tonight, Chad will be back, so you have nothing to worry about being alone here."

"Besides the asbestos in the air vent, right?" Karin smarted back. Ichigo looked heard a springing sound and looked around the doorway to see her standing on the couch, surveying her surroundings incredulously. Her arms were crossed, which met she was far from pleased with the sight.

"This building never had asbestos," Ichigo assured her. "You're perfectly safe."

"Except it's a male dorm, and we're two young girls abandoned by their family."

"Don't be so hard to please. This isn't my fault. And, anyway, how much trouble can you be in with Chad watching you?" It was true. "No-one's going to mess with Chad." That was very, very true.

"Well, forgive me for not worshiping your sad college life like Yuzu," Karin said and slid into the couch seat. "Where's your remote control?"

Ichigo motioned to a table across the room. Then, he stopped. "Hey, where is Yuzu?"

"She's probably narrating the rustic brilliance of your dirty laundry pile."

"Thanks," Ichigo said and went to check the bedrooms. Today wasn't his day. Hell, the whole week had been against him. He couldn't admit it to Karin, but he also did not like the idea of his little sisters alone in a strange dorm. He was relieved to hand them over into the care of Chad. Ichigo could not afford to make any mistakes at work now in an effort to win back Ito's respect and his previous working hours. Even the obstacles set by Kurosaki Isshin couldn't stop him from his goal. Ichigo was a fighter; he would overcome in a victory.

"Where's your hairnet? How do you expect you're going to step foot into this kitchen without a hairnet?"

"No-one told me about a damn hairnet."

"Oh, I believe they did, you just weren't listening," the skinny man behind the lunch counter said. "We were going to give you an easy job of washing dishes on your first night, but you're just insisting on stacking up tables and mopping, aren't you?" He leaned forward towards Ichigo, squinting. Ichigo was wondering if he was looking for some slogan, "Yes, you got me: I _do _insist on stacking tables and mopping" written out on Ichigo's shirt.

"I don't like your attitude, Kurosaki." The man had been trying to read Ichigo's name tag. "No wonder you're here. Get to work. Kikuchi-san will show you the tables' folding and staking technique."

The skinny man pointed to another, much larger man who was busy tackling the first table. Ichigo didn't say anything in response since he knew he had nothing pleasant to tell the skinny man.

"Hello," the man folding tables said brightly. Ichigo was deeply moved by at least one person sounding happy to see him. The man began to explain the key mechanisms of the folding tables. "Now, look closely, and you see that in this part of the table is a lock you just have to loosen…."

Forty minutes later, the combined effort of the two of them had folded and stacked every table in what the man said in awe was a very good time. Ichigo couldn't help but agree, though he had no idea how long it usually took to fold and stack tables. Next up was the sweeping and mopping, which the man assured Ichigo would not take long with two focussed workers as the two of them. Indeed, it did not seem to take long at all, which Ichigo found amazing. The man had some sort of strange effect on the passage of time. His cheeriness and diligent working transformed the atmosphere around him from drab custodial work to something that felt as though it were important to do and do well. Ichigo couldn't beat that work ethic. Instead, he was further amazed.

"Now, I've got to go sweep out some of the clinic rooms, since the hours are over. Want to help me, or wash counters?" the man asked. He wasn't being sarcastic, either. There was a true concern for Ichigo that kept him from simply dragging the boy after him without making sure the boy wanted to go. Ichigo couldn't believe he even had to ask.

"Sweeping is totally cool," he said, already way ahead of the man and pushing his custodial cart out the double doors.

"Kurosaki! Where are you going?" yelled the skinny man behind the counter, catching sight of Ichigo an instant before he cleared the door.

"He's helping me," the man said, "my back is not the same as it always was. I need a little help after all the tables and mopping."

The skinny man nodded right away with this. "Yes, of course. Take however many people you need."

Ichigo stared, confused. "Why doesn't that guy argue with you?" he asked once they reached the hospital lobby. He didn't ask loudly, but the emptiness of the room raise the volume of his voice, causing Ichigo to winch and lower to a whisper. "I mean, he's a bastard."

"I dunno," the man said, his voice not a whisper, but instead one of those special, deep voices that rarely echoed unless he wanted it to. "Maybe since I've been working here for so long? My back is pretty bad, too."

"How long have you worked here?" Ichigo asked, interested since the man did not look very old.

"Since a while before Ishida Ryuuken took over. He hasn't been administrator very long yet, maybe ten years. I remember when Kurosaki showed up and started his clinic. I was already working here three years before that clinic."

"So, you knew my father?" Ichigo asked.

"Who was your father?"

"Kurosaki Isshin."

The man was taken aback by this. He looked as if he didn't fully believe it. "If your father's Kurosaki Isshin, then why are you a janitor?"

"Because he's also insane and thinks it's good for me."

The man laughed. "He was always a little eccentric. Probably why he didn't want to hang around the hospital taking care of patients. Everyone was sort of bothered with him opening his clinic so far across town. I don't remember why, though. Maybe just because it was him."

This seemed like a good enough reason to Ichigo, since his father had always been an aggravating person. It must've horrified the people in the hospital to know that Kurosaki Isshin was about to set his insanity free on the world and out of the hospital's reach. But then, maybe that was why Isshin had opened his clinic in the first place, to escape the confines and regulation of the hospital. The guy was strange. Good to know it hadn't been a recent characteristic in him.

"What's your name?" Ichigo asked, suddenly realising the man and him had not been properly introduced. "I'm Kurosaki Ichigo."

"My name's Kikuchi Eugene."

"Eugene?"

"I like that name better than Yi Jin. I've got a mixed ancestry on my mother's side."

"I see. But, why Eugene?"

"I used to live in the United States with my brother. I'm going back to stay in a couple of weeks since my brother-in-law is getting tired of me, and I'm getting tired of my brother-in-law."

They reached the hospital clinics then, so Ichigo held back on questions and began getting back to work. He thought about how much it would suck to live with an in-law, especially someone who didn't like you and you didn't like also. Any person who could hate Eugene had to be particularly awful. Eugene was not a bad guy. Some people were just impossible to please.

"Wow, did you just get home?" Chad asked, stumbling out of his room at the sound of Ichigo entering the apartment and searching the refrigerator for a snack. "It's almost two."

"Yep," said Ichigo, deciding cookies were just the snack to help him make it through the morning. "Those bastards kept me thirty extra minutes because I didn't have a hairnet when I showed up. Then, I had to walk all the way back here because the chain on my bike broke. I have to get it fixed after biology. Do you still have that spare chain from the bike you took apart last week?"

"Yeah, and you can borrow my bike if you need to. I don't have a class today."

"Only if I want to break my neck," Ichigo said. Chad was a lot bigger than most people, and this resulted in a need for him to customise his bicycles.

"I was just offering. You know, in case you did feel like breaking your neck."

Ichigo poured himself a glass of juice and took a seat at the coffee table. Armed with cookies and a nearby pen, he opened the textbook that had been sitting there all evening. "Chad, can you watch Karin and Yuzu when I'm not here tomorrow?"

"You're studying now?"

"Yeah, my whole schedule is f---ed," Ichigo said, skimming lines to find where he stopped reading before. "I didn't study yet. And I just got a whole load of crumbs in the stupid margin. Dammit." He turned the book upside down and began shaking it clean.

"Well, I suppose I can watch them. I've got some insulation work at an office building a few blocks away. It's afternoon hours. That's all."

"That's great. I'll be here, then. As long as you get back before I leave for class, it'll all work out. I'm going to have to run to the hospital right when the professor lets us out. It sucks."

"Can you study at work?"

"No. There's this skinny dictator who keeps trying to convince me I'm a horrible person and should drink cleaning fluid. It's stupid because we're in a f---ing hospital, so how sad would that be if I died of something like cleaning fluid when the stomach pumps are two storeys up?"

Chad smiled and shook his head. Ichigo had a tendency of being unintentionally funny.

"It's a good thing all the hollows are not doing a whole lot now. I dunno how I would've passed high school if they hadn't held back their worst shit until school holidays."

"You said your were going to stop putting so much time into killing hollows for college. Don't worry about it. Soul Society has got things covered."

"Yeah, well I can't help feeling it still concerns me. I haven't really done any shinigami stuff for weeks."

"But you have been going to class and going to work."

"I might fall out of practise."

"You'd never fall out of practise if you wanted to."

"I know, and I know I don't have the sort of time shinigami have to focus on their jobs, but I still want to jump out of class and go after a hollow, especially when Soul Society is taking it's damn sweet time responding. They show up right after I've saved some spirit and ask me what the hell I think I'm doing. Then I just want to yell at them, "your job, you f---ing idiot" and storm off." Ichigo sighed and began flipping pages through the book at random, hoping to come up an illustration or something he recognised. "Is it me, or does Soul Society sometimes not respond at all? Remember when Ishida set off that stupid bait and every hollow in _hueco mundo _filled the city? No-one the hell showed up. Then, they tried to kill me. What the hell?"

"That sounds like the Quincy problem."

"Who the hell's side are you on?"

"I'm just observing."

"Well, unless you want to observe my fist in your face, stop."

Chad had to smile. They both knew who would win if the two of them got into a fist fight. They both also knew they would never get into a fist fight because of these odds and also because Chad wouldn't hit back. Chad was just that upstanding of a guy. Ichigo sort of wasn't.

"Hey, why are you guys being so noisy?" a sleepy Karin asked from the doorway to Ichigo's room. She looked at Ichigo and his textbooks. "Are you cramming? That's sad."

This could've possibly have been one of Karin brilliant attacks, except she followed it with a yawn and nearly toppling over into the coffee table. She was rescued by Chad, who was closest and the sufferer of a major hero complex, and was then handed over to Ichigo.

"She's a lot cuter when she unconscious, right?" Ichigo asked, his voice scornful but only out of reflex. Wisely, Chad opted for silence. "I suppose I'll put her back into bed. You know, tuck her in and sing her a lullaby. She would die of embarrassment."

"If she weren't already asleep."

"Yeah. And that," Ichigo said, standing and heading back to his room. Last time he'd carried Karin to bed, she'd been half the size she was now. It was scary how much taller she'd gotten in little time. Puberty had hit the kid like a brick. It only made Ichigo more defensive in his role as the protective older brother. There was no way he was going to end up with some strange brother-in-law that he did not like, who would pester him in his advancing age and kick him out of the house at the soonest opportunity to ship him to the United States.

Though Ichigo had no idea why he'd be living with his brother-in-law anyway. What the hell was he thinking?

Ichigo decided then that he'd been awake for far too long. It was time to have a quality snuggle with the couch and stop thinking.

* * *

**Endnote:** I was going to try to make you all carzy by posting this chapter on the end of last chapter, but you took it so well. I didn't want all the chapter numbers to add up. Because I'm evil. 

You should be happy you get two chapters so quickly.


End file.
